


Everyone is in Love with Clarke Griffin

by TheNightbloodSolution



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drunkenness, F/F, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 09:31:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15482784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightbloodSolution/pseuds/TheNightbloodSolution
Summary: Everyone is in love with fucking Clarke Griffin.Raven thought it first on a Thursday afternoon, holding a half-drained bottle of moonshine that Monty had given her in her hands.





	Everyone is in Love with Clarke Griffin

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a couple months ago and never actually posted it anywhere, so I'm posting it now. This is just a Princess Mechanic headcanon I had that probably would've taken place around late season 2 before they bust everyone out of Mount Weather, except that Monty is in it, which doesn't make sense, so I've determined it actually doesn't fit anywhere in canon timewise, but disregarding that it makes sense.

_Everyone is in love with fucking Clarke Griffin._

Raven thought it first on a Thursday afternoon, holding a half-drained bottle of moonshine that Monty had given her in her hands. (“I’m working on making more,” he had said, “Just hand that out for now and I’ll let everyone know when I’ve brewed the next batch.” And Raven meant to share, she really did.)

Somehow though, she ended up in her tent, alone with the entire bottle to herself and a single piercing thought running through her mind.

She lifted her bum leg off the cot and grunted when it hit the ground.

Seriously, though, what was it? What made Clarke Griffin _so_ special? What made Finn fall in love with her?

_Finn_.

Smooth brown hair and soft brown eyes smiled at her when she closed her eyes. And then suddenly there was blood, blood everywhere as Clarke stabbed him through the heart. Raven got a (short) lifetime with him, a family, a home. Clarke had five days. And he still chose her. She got his love. She decided his fate. She ended his life, and he confessed his love to her as he faded away.

Whenever Raven had the guts to think about it, it felt like she was the one being stabbed.

But it wasn’t like it was just Finn who was infatuated. She knew about the prince of the Ark, the way he’d follow around the girl with the blond hair like a lost puppy and from what she had heard, he continued to act that way on the ground. That is, until he too, had died.

And then there was Bellamy, who looked at Clarke like she hung the moon. Like all her decisions were justified. A constant reminder that even those who hated Clarke couldn’t hate her for long. Clarke’s ultimate rival from day one off the dropship and even he had fallen down the rabbit hole that was Clarke Griffin. (Whenever asked about their relationship, Clarke would say something along the lines of, “We’re both leaders- we understand each other.” Bellamy would look flustered, deny it, and then go back to longingly staring at Clarke.)

Fucking hell, she even convinced the Commander to fall in love with her. A ruthless war chief who commanded thousands upon thousands of grounders to fight, to kill; she had taken practically two looks at the fearless leader of the 100 and decided that was where her heart belonged.

And with all this love following her around, most of it perished, Raven knew the truth about Clarke’s love: Clarke herself loved no one, under the guise of loving everyone.

The zipper sliding on her tent broke her out of her reverie.

“I’ve got the next batch, so hopefully you can hand this one out, t-.” Monty stepped inside and stopped his statement as he eyed the half-empty bottle, then Raven, then the bottle again.

“Did you drink all that?” He asked incredulously.

Raven tilted her head downwards. “Maybe.”

“What’s up?” He questioned, sitting down next to her.

“Nothing.”

Monty made a move to leave, never one to pry, but Raven yanked him back down. She had to tell someone what she knew.

“Everyone is in love with Clarke,” She stared at him intently.

He let out something between a cough and a laugh. “What?”

“No, think about it. There was Wells and Finn and Bellamy and even Lexa. The fucking enemy. Even the enemy is in love with Clarke Griffin.” She didn’t understand it. She couldn’t comprehend it.

“Am I in love with her?” Monty quirked an eyebrow.

“Fucking probably,” Raven muttered. “She gets everyone. Everyone! And I get no one, not even the one I had first.”

A minute went by in silence. She didn’t think Monty agreed with her, but she still knew she was right. Clarke had some kind of spell she put on people; Raven was starting to genuinely consider the possibility that she was a witch specializing in love magic.

Finally, Monty spoke. “What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Are you in love with Clarke?” He clarified.

“No!” Raven spat, a little too forcefully.

All the same, he nodded, and grabbed the half-drained bottle from her hand before standing up to head out. “You should get some rest.”

She’s not sure how long she lies there after he leaves. She doesn’t think as much anymore, it hurts her brain to think of Clarke and her endless list of true loves. Instead, she just stares at the top of her tent, counting the seams over and over. The total never comes out the same.

She starts the count again, for maybe the tenth time when a throaty voice asks, “Can I come in?”

_No_ , Raven’s head says.

“Yes.” The actual response.                           

The _schhhhhhwip_ of the zipper sounds and then Clarke Griffin, the girl of a thousand loves, steps into her tent, all blue eyes and blond hair and sincere smiles. Raven frowns.

“I was looking for you, but Monty told me you were drunk,” She explains. “You should have told me; I would have joined you.”

“Wasn’t really in the mood for partner drinking,” Raven manages to get out, though a few words are slurred.

“Why?” Clarke asks the one question she shouldn’t.

For a moment, Raven contemplates telling Clarke her theory. Opening the floodgates and explaining to Clarke that everyone is in love with her. Telling her that Clarke has everything, and Raven has nothing.

She doesn’t.

All she ends up saying – whispering – is “I’m alone.”

An arm pulls Raven up to a sitting position before wrapping firmly around her, squeezing her in a way that makes her feel slightly less awful.

“Look at me, hey.” Blue eyes; they’re piercing. “You’re not alone. You have me.” A pause. “And Bellamy and Monty and Jasper and Octavia and hey,” Another pause. “Even if you didn’t you’d have the most badass person on the planet with you. You.”

“You’re Raven goddamn Reyes.” She smiles; it’s so sincere Raven wants to barf (but that might just be the moonshine). “Who else can say that?”

They sit in silence, Clarke’s arm clutching Raven for minutes until Clarke is summoned to some other duty where Raven is sure someone else is in love with Clarke Griffin.

She lies down on the cot again, closes her eyes, and wills her brain to shut off and her heart to stop racing.

It doesn’t.

All she can think of are blue eyes, blue eyes, blue eyes.

_Everyone is in love with fucking Clarke Griffin._


End file.
